The Dragon Rider
by Elizabeth Childers
Summary: Two years after Tom leaves Hogwarts,he meets their American Transfer student at Borgin and Burkes. He hatches a plan to seduce her and have a spy on his least favorite prof. But our American Friend isn't what she seems. Rated for sex and language. Tom/OC
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Way, way back when, just after Riddle leaves Hogwarts, he meets a young woman in Borgin and Burkes. He learns that she is a transfer student to his old school, and hatches a plan that consists wooing this American stranger.

Chapter One

Tom heard her slight southern drawl from the back room at Borgin's. He could hear the usual softness behind the hard, demanding tone. It immediately went to his groin. She had a bedroom voice, but he had a sneeking suspicion that she really didn't know how to use it.

"I don't know what it's called. My father wants it for personal reasons. It's a blue diamond, or something like that, necklace. I think," she muttered the last to herself as he walked up behind the counter to study the girl that had him aroused.

She was tiny, and muggle-looking. She was wearing almost all denim, a denim jacket and pants, covered with weird symbols that had been bleached in. Her hat was military style, and covered the top of a curly, strangely sexy mess of dark brown curls. She was rifling through her side bag, looking for something. He assumed a piece of paper because the bag was filled with them. When she looked up with a small look of triumph in her sparkling ice blue eyes. Her skin was pale, even paler than his, and flawless. She seemed to be a china doll to him. But there was a steel to her he had never seen in a woman.

"Here, he drew it out for me. Can you help me find this?" she asked, failing at practiced patience.

"I'll take care of that, ma'am," he said with a perfect-customer-pleasing smile.

She cast him a shocked look as if she hadn't even realized he'd been standing there.

"Oh, thank you," she said with her own plastic smile as she handed him the picture.

He looked at the necklace. "Oh, this is a nasty piece of work. Did he tell you why he needed it?" Tom asked as he walked around the counter to find the necklace under the glass at the far end of the store.

"No, but I'm hoping it's for his new wife, she is such a bitch," the woman confided.

Tom was surprised to hear such a word from a young lady. It was so unlike any woman he had ever spoken to. She was strange…and then he realized it. She was foreign. That southern drawl wasn't an identity cover, it was real. She was an American.

"You're from America?" he asked, making conversation.

"Sure. Does it matter?" she asked, immediately on the defensive.

"No, I just recognized your accent as different, is all. Here you go," he said as he opened the case.

"Perfect," she said, her smile genuine now.

She reached out to touch it, and her stopped her. "No touching, ma'am. Any one who touches it regrets it whole-heartedly."

She nodded and put her hands back in the pockets of that worn, discolored jacket. "Right, forgot about that. Could you bag it for me?"

He smiled as he closed its box. "I don't think you're going to be able to cover the price, ma'am."

She blew out a puff of air and glared at him. "Do I really look like a madam to you? I'm younger than you are, I'd bet," she pointed out.

"Sorry, _miss_. I'll refrain from being polite."

"I'd be ever so grateful," she said with a sickly sweet smile. "What's the cost?"

"Six hundred and eighty-two galleons," he told her, knowing it was a lot for someone who had holes in the knees of their jeans.

She nodded and gently bit on that plush, slightly colored lower lip that looked ready for rough kisses. Then, she asked, "Will you take Six hundred and fifty for it?"

He looked shocked that she was trying to bargain. He did the quick math in his head. No profit lost, just a little less than planned. Borgin wouldn't mind.

"All right, then. But up front," he clarified.

"Of course. I'm ready to pay," she said.

"Follow me, then," he said with another plastic grin.

"Will do," she said as he passed.

He rung her up, still peering at her through his longer hair. She was looking around, examining the environment.

He wrapped the necklace's box up in tissue paper, then wrapped it in paper. She counted out the appropriate number of galleons and stacked them on his counter. She wasn't kidding, she had with her six hundred and fifty galleons.

He handed her the package. "Thank you, miss…"

"Just call me Chris," she muttered as she shoved the box into her bag and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Come again, Chris," he told her what he said to all the customers.

"I'll probably be in again sometime in the near future," she told him, then looked around. "This place could have a few useful items for school," she said softly again to herself.

"School?"

"New school this year," she explained. "Not sure what's going to happen."

He nodded, then realized. "Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, pointing at him with a long finger. "That place. You know it?"

He laughed. "Yeah, left there about two years ago now. You're a little old to be starting there, though, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm transferring. Better than my old school," she offered as the only explanation.

"Interesting," he said softly.

"Why?" she asked.

"I've never heard of anyone transferring, that's all," he explained.

"I guess I'm just special," she said with a cheesy grin. "Goodbye," she said suddenly and made her way to the door.

He stopped her. "Chris," he called out her name. She seemed to think about stopping before she fully did and she turned, her hand holding the door open and letting the sunlight pour in. It made her look angelic.

"Yes?" she asked slowly.

"I'm just about to go on my break. Will you accompany me?" he asked softly.

She looked surprised, then gathered herself together again. "Maybe next time, lover boy," she said flippantly.

"It's Tom," he told her.

"Bye, Tom," she said with a wry grin, and she left. Her hand, however, lingered on the door. And on her wrist was a thin powder-blue band.

*

Christopher Davis laughed to herself as she walked down Knockturn Alley and onto Diagon Alley. She'd been in the country for two days and she already had a date offer. It seemed being "exotic" had it's benefits. She thought about the man though. He was hot, in a quiet, nerdy way. He had a wry sense of humor, obviously. And, she wasn't sure about it, but she sensed that there were definitely some muscles underneath that old, hand me down suit.

She entered The Leaky Cauldron and ordered a drink as she sat at the bar. The man there looked at her suspiciously. She just smirked at him, then looked around. The person she was meeting there was going to walk in at any moment.

She had had a drink and was half way through another when he sat down beside her. He was a handsome blonde man with smiling brown eyes. He was a strong looking, but rather wirey once you got down to it.

"You got it?" he asked softly. His hand rested on the thigh of her crossed legs. She pushed it off casually.

"Yeah, I've got it. You got the money?" she asked sweetly.

"In my back pocket. You want to reach for it?" he asked flirtatiously.

She glared at him suddenly. "Cut the shit, Greg, and give me my money."

"Necklace first."

"No. You fucked me over last time I did that. Money first."

Greg stared at her for a moment, then smiled. This time, it didn't reach his malicious eyes. "If only that were true, Chrissy. All right, just this one time, money first," he said, and handed her the envelope with the bills in it. She opened it up and did a quick count, saying a small spell to make sure it was legit. Then, satisfied, she handed him the package.

"Thank you, honey," he said sweetly. "Give me a kiss goodbye?" he asked.

"Here's a better idea," she said brightly, "I _say_ goodbye, and you kiss my ass," she finished. Then, she paid for her drinks, shouldered her bag and left.

"You'll come crawling to me someday, Chrissy. I'll fuck you yet!" he shouted at her.

She flipped him the bird before she exited the establishment and joined muggle London.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks later

Tom was on his break looking through Flourish and Blotts when he saw her again. This time she was wearing an intact pair of jeans and the same jean jacket she had worn the last time. Her hat was a beret today and when she turned slightly he saw she was wearing a black t-shirt instead of a red one. She was frowning as she looked at her list of books and glanced at the shelves.

"Can I help you?" he asked as he walked up beside her. He felt his cock go hard again just by standing close enough to smell her light musk.

She glanced to see him and smiled again. "Fancy seein' you here, Tommy Boy," she greeted him.

He winced inwardly from the nickname that he detested, but kept silent. He liked this girl and wanted to know why she had transferred. And why they were allowing her to transfer.

"I haven't seen you around," he commented, struggling to make small talk. It was never a strong point.

"Yeah, this is the first time I've been back," she answered.

"Was you father pleased with the necklace?" he asked.

She looked at him, confused. "What?" she asked, then she seemed to remember. "Oh, right. Yeah, he was ecstatic," she covered.

Tom could smell a lie away, and she was definitely lying. The necklace hadn't been for her father. But, he wouldn't pressure her in public.

"Would you like to take me up on that offer and accompany me to lunch?" he suddenly asked.

She turned fully to him this time and he realized how much shorter she was than him. And shorter. A lot shorter.

"Help me find my books and I'll pay," she offered with a coy grin.

"That's all right, I was going to help you anyway," he declined. As she showed him the list, he asked, "What's left that you haven't found?"

"All of them," she said with a soft laughed.

Twenty minutes later she had her books and they were leaving the store. He helped her carry them.

"Where would you like to eat?" he asked, looking for ideas.

"You're asking the person who's been here twice in her life?" she asked. "How about you pick this time?"

He took her to a small restaurant in Knocturn Alley and the rest of the afternoon was spent in remote silence. Neither on seemed to see a reason to start a conversation. Tom didn't mind, he just wanted to watch her. She was left handed and leaned more to her right than her left. She also kept an eye on the door as if she was ready for a fight.

While they waited for their cheeks, he finally asked a question. "Chris, is that short for something?"

He seemed to startle her. "Excuse me?" she asked.

"Your name is it short for something or is it just that?" he clarified.

"Oh," she laughed. "It's short for Christopher," she explained. And for the first time, a pretty pink color bloomed in her cheeks.

"Christopher?" he repeated, implying his question of 'why?'

"Daddy really wanted a boy," was all she said.

When they left, she walked with him back to Borgin and Burkes.

"Thanks for lunch," she said with a small smile. And she stood on tip-toe and kissed his cheek. He almost came in his pants. He had been fighting his erection since they had sat down to lunch, and that demure touch of lips to his skin set him on fire. And he snapped.

He shoved her back against the wall and she let out a surprised puff of air. He leaned into her, letting her feel how hard he was.

"You shouldn't have done that," he whispered against her plump lips before kissing her. She'll have bruises, he thought vaguely. I don't care, he decided. It thrilled him that she would have his marks on her. He actually felt his cock twitch as his instincts screamed, '_Mine_.'

*

Chris was no doubt shocked as the man pushed her into the wall and roughly kissed her. Even more so when his tongue slipped between her lips. She'd never had tongue on the first date. And when Tom's erection slammed into her thigh in a rough imitation of sex, she smiled.

'Looks like he's not such a good boy after all,' she thought. She pulled her arms free from his hold and wrapped them around his neck. He tore his lips free from hers and looked down at her. He seemed surprised at her positive reaction.

Before she could gain her speaking abilities back, he was kissing her again. This time it was softer, restrained. She pulled back this time and kissed his jaw before whispering in his ear, "Never hold back, Tom." And she shoved him away.

Startled, he fell back on his ass and he looked at her, bewildered. She gave him a soft smile, but there were angry glints in her eyes. "It makes you look like a pussy," she finished. Before he could process what she had said, she disappeared with a loud crack.

*

Chris had apparated to her hotel room across town with her books in tow. She packed them into a school bag before collapsing onto the couch. Putting a hand to her lips, she flinched. They were swollen and bruised, and she could still feel his kisses. She realized that her breasts were swollen and heavy and her underwear was wet. Tom definitely had an effect on her, she mused. That's interesting, she fumed. Interesting.

*

Tom was still furious as he closed up shop. How dare the bitch call him that, treat him that way.

He had forgotten who he was around the girl. She had fogged his mind with sex, and he hated her for it. He would have her, he's decided that. And then he'd throw her out on her ass.

He sat in his room above the shop and he could still smell her, taste her. And it kept him hard as a rock all day.

As he lay in bed, he couldn't sleep because visions of her writhing underneath him. Unable to stand it, he wrapped his hand around his cock and took a quick, unsatisfying release. Then, he turned onto his side and fell asleep, where she still haunted him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

It was midnight when Greg finally apparated into her room and scared the shit out of her. She had been slightly dozing on the couch, not wanting to move to the bed when he woke her up.

"Greg, dammit!" she screamed. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"Shh," he chided her. "You'll wake the whole floor screaming like that. I came to tell you that the boss wants something again."

"All right," she prompted when he stopped.

He smirked. "What'll you give me for it?"

She sighed and asked, "What do you want?" But she already knew what he was going to say.

His smirk widened into a lecherous grin. "Where's the bed?"

"Yours is back in you loft, I assume," she subtly rejected.

"The couch is fine then," he said hopefully.

"I can wait and talk to him," she decided. "Good night, Greg," she said as she stood up. "You know where the door is, I presume?"

She didn't see Greg roll his eyes as he said, "He needs the book, Chrissy."

She stared at him. "Forget it, no way. Not. Going. To. Happen."

"He said you'd say that," Greg reasoned. His smile turned malicious. "And he said that in that case, he has Pierce."

Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach shriveled. "You're lying," she whispered, immediately searching his gaze for the truth.

"I've seen him with my own eyes, Chrissy," Greg told her. One short burst of legilimency and she knew he was being honest.

"I don't have it with me, Greg," she lied. In truth, it was in the bottom of her suitcase.

"Then get it," Greg said. He was no longer flirting. "Or he'll start hacking away at your friend."

"I need time," she continued. There was no emotion in her voice even though fear was trying to choke her.

"I can buy you a week," Greg told her. Then he smiled that usual smirk. "For a price."

She shook her head. "Fuck you, Greg," she snarled.

"That's the idea."

"How about something different?" she compromised, looking disgusted at him.

He smiled even brighter and it turned wolfish. "What did you have in mind?"

She leaned on her right foot and put a hand on her hip. "What do you think?" she asked harshly.

"We have a deal then," he conceded as he unbuckled his belt and reached for his fly.

She took a few steps forward and fell onto her knees.

"No biting," he warned.

With a shiver of revulsion, she nodded and reached for his cock. She hated the fact that she was going to do this.

*

Ten minutes later, Greg was gone and she was in the bathroom disinfecting her mouth and throat by drinking an alarming amount of mouth wash.

'I don't know what he eats, but damn,' she thought. 'A few fruits and veggies wouldn't hurt him.'

*

She was back in the store the next day, and Tom was pissed. Aroused and needing her, definitely, but still angry at her.

And she had the gall to ask for him directly. She was in all black today and despite the summer heat her shirt had a high neck. She looked pissed as well.

"Hey, Tommy Boy," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Yes, miss?" he said formally. She seemed to see his anger.

"Relax, big boy, we'll finish yesterday later," she said with a wink. "Right now, I'd like to sell something to you."

"Really? Pray, tell," he implored as though bored.

She pulled a large brown paper package out of her bag and set it on the table. "I give you libro de magia maligna," she said, her transition to Spanish was flawless.

"Really?" And that is?"

"A very important book that I want to get rid of. What will you give me for it?"

"Nothing. I don't care if it's important, he told her. It only needed to be dark.

"It's filled with black magic that even your grendel…something doesn't know," she tried to persuade him.

"I don't believe you," he said simply. But she had perked his interest. "Why don't you show me?"

"Can't," she told him.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, "And why not?"

"Opening it is not a good idea," she explained.

"Wait, even opening it is evil?"

"Yes," she said brightly as she nodded.

"That's bullshit," he dismissed. "Goodbye, Chris," and he turned around.

"Tom, I need to get rid of this book and I don't think you realize how much," she warned. When he turned to look at her, she was playing with that blue band around her wrist. Then he realized, it was too small to slide off, and there was no clip on it. Just a smooth, round band. Something was wrong, and that appealed to him in a way he wasn't altogether sure he liked.

"On a scale to one to ten, how valuable is this book?" he asked.

"Thirty. It's priceless, and there's a lot of really bad people who want to get a hold on it," she said quickly, hopefully.

"Want it enough to kill you for it?" he asked, making sure.

She nodded.

"We'll give you four hundred for it," he decided, and the tension that seemed to be holding her up melted as he gave her the money and put the book under the counter for later inspection. Later, personal inspection.

"Thank you, Tom," she said with a smile.

He nodded, and then changed the subject. "You're getting on the train for Hogwarts tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she said. Now that the book wasn't in her possession, she seemed a little disoriented. She looked up into his eyes, and he saw that something was wrong. He wanted to know why, but wouldn't ask. She smirked, but he could see that she didn't mean it. "You want to finish what we were doing yesterday?"

Yes, he did. He was hard and ready. Then looked her up and down. She seemed to like him, and he needed eyes at Hogwarts. If he could get her to tell him what was going on, what Dumbledore was doing…

"How's tonight?" he asked with his own grin.

"I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron," she told him. "Around seven?"

"Sure."

"Good."

He looked around to make sure that they were alone in the store, and then gestured to her. She leaned forward onto the glass. "Yes?"

Without preamble, he kissed her innocently, and then pulled back before letting it get too far.

She pulled back as well and smiled.

"See you later Tom," she said and she winked again.

His cock throbbed when she grabbed his hand and rubbed her thumb along his palm. "Don't keep me waiting," she said before letting go.

She left, and again, her hand lingered on the door, showing off that mysterious blue bracelet.


	4. Chapter 4

Bit of a warning, mates: Readers, if you don't like semi-explicit sex scenes. Don't read this chapter. The only relevancy is that Tom convinces her to write to him when she's at Hogwarts and to let him know what's going on with his least favorite professor.

*

At seven o'clock, Tom entered the Tavern and immediately scanned for Chris. She was sitting at the bar, drinking something clear. He figured it was water. She saw him and smiled, a come hither look in her eyes.

He walked over to her, and sat on the bar stool next to her. She handed him her drink, and he tossed it back to finish it. And almost gagged. It was _not_ water. She laughed as his eyes watered.

"Are you ready?" she asked, her smile turning wicked.

"Yeah," he coughed, and he felt his cock harden a bit with the thought of what was coming.

"Come on," she whispered, and grabbed his hand. He did not expect her to apparate on the spot, but she did. When they appeared again, they were in a hotel suite. He knew that they were somewhere in London because he could see the Thames out the window with sheer, fluttering curtains. There was a kitchen and sitting room. The door to the left was open, and he saw a large bed in the center of the room. His cock twitched again.

He looked down at her, and she looked up at him. Her grasp on his hand was gone and she was tracing it up his arm. She seemed unsure now, like her confidence was wavering. That bit of vulnerability made him bend his head to hers and kiss her hard.

Shivers ran down her back as he invaded her mouth and she plastered herself to his hard length. Yes, underneath that shabby suit there was solid, lean muscle. She grinned against his mouth as he grabbed the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up to put her legs around his hips. His erection was now rubbing against the seam of her pants and directly stimulated her clit. She started breathing harder.

He backed her into the bedroom and pushed her back onto the bed. He didn't join her immediately, but stood there and watched. It seemed that he had just stopped, so she took off her turtle neck, showing her lacey brassiere. His eyes lit up and the strain at his pants was doubled. She wondered if he ever had seen one particularly like this one. Then she unclipped it and let her breasts bounce free.

"You coming?" she asked as he continued to stare at her.

He didn't answer, but his clothes started being pulled off. Her eyes travelled down his body, his chest lean and powerful with a light dusting of hair covering it. His upper arms were strong and leanly muscled. There was much more to him then there was Greg, more definition and strength, but he was still very lean.

When he unbuckled his pants, her mouth went dry. Her gaze reached that happy trail and followed it as he shed his pants and underwear. Her eyes were filled with laughter when she looked up at him.

"You're a big boy, aren't you?" she asked.

He tried to smile, she thought, but there was too much desire in his face to really pull it off. Then he was on top of her, kissing her again. She moaned again as he thumbed her nipples She spread her legs a little farther to accommodate him and remembered that she was still in her slacks. Chris was about to say something when he left her lips and bent lower to suck a small pink nipple into his mouth. While one hand continued to tease her breast, his other was slowly undoing the clasp on her pants. She helped him shove them down and away from her legs and he pulled himself back up.

Tom leaned down to whisper into her ear. "Are you wet for me, Chris?" he asked as he dipped his hand between her thighs. The hand he pulled back was glistening. "Yeah," he answered himself, "I think you are."

She laughed a bit and said, "No shit, Tom. Please, I need you." She thrust her hips up against his, feeling that steely erection against her soft folds.

"All in good time," he teased. He started to push into her, but stopped. She was tight, and he wanted so much to plow into her to the hilt, but he wanted her to feel just as good as he did. He pushed a little farther in, and then pulled out. He did it again, and again, finally she dug her nails into his back. "Dammit, Tom, just fuck me already!"

He laughed, and then shoved into her with a growl. She gave a small cry as he started hammering her, then she reacted and was thrusting just as hard back.

Minutes or hours later, he reached down and rubbed at her clit, feeling his as well as her orgasm coming. He reached it just before she did, pulsing his seed deep into her as she shuddered around him. He collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing hard and covered in sweat.

"That was… amazing," he admitted as he rolled over. She didn't turn toward him to cuddle, which he vaguely found odd. It was one of the things he hated about having sex- women tended to want to cuddle and talk afterward.

"Hmm," she murmured in agreement. She sat up suddenly and stood up. He watched her as she walked into the bathroom. She has a really nice ass, he thought, appreciating the view. He heard a faucet running for a few minutes, a murmured spell, and then she came back. She saw him still lying on the bed and seemed surprised.

"You staying here?" she asked, pulling a robe from the rack near the door.

"Probably not," he admitted. "You want me to leave?" he asked

"You don't have to right now, I guess," she replied. She sat back down on the bed, leaning against the pillows. Tom still hadn't moved from his earlier position.

"Promise me something, Chris," he whispered as he put his hand on her thigh. She flinched a bit, and it perturbed him, but he pushed it out of his head.

"What?" she asked her voice soft, but with little emotion.

"Write me while you're at Hogwarts," he asked.

"All right, I can do that," she promised.

"And there's a professor there, Dumbledore. Let me know how he's doing from time to time?"

"Sure."

"Chris?"

She looked down at him. "What?" she said, this time a little laugh in her voice.

"Are you all right?" he asked. He was taken aback by her lack of emotion or normal actions of women he had slept with before.

"Yeah, fine. Why?" she asked, looking perplexed. He turned onto his stomach and pulled himself up to her. He looked her in the eye for a moment, and then softly kissed her. She kissed him back.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"I don't know."

She smiled softly at him, the first real emotion he had seen since he had pulled out.

He kissed her again, and soon she was underneath him again. This time was slow as sweet. Afterward, he still felt like he could take her again and he was still put off by how standoffish she had suddenly become. And he worried that maybe he had gotten into something he couldn't control.


	5. Chapter 5

**Merry Christmas! Here's an update, and you know the deal. I don't own crap, okay, let alone a story as wonderful as anything Harry Potter. So, enjoy and if you would be ever so inclined, please review. It'll take two minutes to type up what a great job I'm doing. Or three to tell me I suck. So, whichever amount of time you want to waste, be my guest. **

* * *

Chapter Five

September 1

Tom kissed her soundly on the platform 9 ¾. They had spent that last week and a half together and he found it getting easier and easier to see her more as a lover than a meal ticket. And that was bothersome. And he never felt more confused. She was warm and confident and challenging, except after they would fuck. Then, she became distant. He didn't mind it one bit, he hated clingy women, but it was unnerving how cold she suddenly became. Like an orgasm was a turn _off_ for her. He knew she enjoyed it while they were going at it, but it was like the release of pressure and the rush of endorphins left her depressed.

She pulled back and let the balls of her feet finally touch the cement. She had been on her toes while they were kissing to give him less distance to bend down. The smile on her face was slightly swollen and very satisfied. This was the girl he wanted to see, not the distant one. Even she was colder than what he wanted his pawn to be. It made it difficult to gauge her feelings.

"When will you be back?" he asked.

"Next summer, I'll probably stay over the holidays. Unless you had other plans…" she trailed off. There was no real question in her voice, just a mild inquiry.

"I might be in Hogsmead if you want to meet me there," he offered.

"That sounds nice, whatever the hell that is," she laughed and kissed his cheek. "I'll write you and we can talk about it then. Okay?"

"All right," he said nodding. He looked around. There were still kids in the years behind him still on the platform. If any of them glanced his way, he could see the sudden dread in their eyes and they quickly looked away. It brought a smirk to his face. They remembered him, and they remembered him well.

She shouldered the pack that had been sitting by their feet and looked up at him one last time. The silence between them was suddenly awkward, something unusual. He gave her one last smile, and she smiled back. She turned around and walked toward the nearest opening to the train. When he asked about the rest of her luggage, she had just patted her pocket and said, "Taken care of, Tom."

Tom watched her ass in the jeans she was wearing. That was probably his favorite part of her body- she had an amazing ass that filled his hands perfectly while he had her against the wall.

Just before he turned to leave, he saw someone approach Chris. He was a handsome guy, a pretty boy. He looked innocent enough, but Tom had been who he was too long, and knew that this man was not good news. He grabbed Chris' arm and spoke to her sharply. She turned and frowned at the man. Tom went to intervene; no one was going to push around someone of use to him, when he heard the conversation.

"He wants the book, Chrissy. Today," the man whispered.

"I don't have it," she told him. "And it's not where I thought it was."

"Where is it?" the man snarled this time. He reminded Tom of a jackal.

"If I knew where it was, don't you think that I would do anything in my power to get it?" she snapped. They were speaking quietly now. "Stall him, get me more time. I'll find something for him, all right?"

"I can't get you more time. He's not listening to me anymore, Chrissy. You're old man is getting awfully pissed."

"Good for him. Now, let me go, Greg, I've got to get on the train."

The man grabbed her other hand and let go of her to pull down the sleeve. The light blue band flashed as he shoved it into her face. "Remember who you are, Chrissy, and who's going to get hurt if you don't cough up the goods."

"Like this doesn't remind me every day," she gestured at the band, and for the first time, Tom saw that something was written on it in runes he had never seen before. She tore herself from the man, and he could see the loathing in her eyes.

Then, he intervened. "Is everything all right, Chris?" he asked, walking up and putting his arm around her.

"Yeah, everything's just peachy," the man answered. The look that Tom received from him was deep dislike, as if Tom was some sort of threat. Tom was and he made a purposeful motion to grab his wand.

"Is there a problem?" Tom asked, ignoring the man- Greg- and looking directly at the girl. She looked up and he saw how plastic her smile is.

"Yeah, Tom, don't worry, everything's fine," she said, and then she let out a deep breath. "Anyway, I've got to go. It was nice seeing you again, Greg," she said with a false jovial wave and she pulled away.

Before either man could say anything, she hopped on the train just as the whistle blew. The train took off, but Tom wasn't paying attention. He was sizing up Greg. This man looked confident, but there was a weakness to him that did not appeal to Tom. That, and Chris didn't like him. That was definitely against the guy too.

"She's mine, dude, back off," Greg suddenly said.

Tom smiled. "I doubt it. She doesn't much care for you, does she?"

"Like you know anything. Our relationship is complicated, but concrete. You better stay away."

"If you're 'relationship' is so intact, why was she fucking me the last couple weeks and not you?" Tom asked before he could analyze the risk.

Greg's gaze turned dark, unnaturally so. In fact, his eyes blackened completely. Tom had never seen that. Greg took a step and looked him right in the eye. "You have no idea what you're dealing with, wizard, so back off before it's too late."

Then Greg was gone and Tom was staring at the spot where the other man's eyes were. And suddenly, who Chris was became interesting on a new level, one that Tom would die if he didn't know.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Chris's eyes stayed on the enchanted ceiling in Hogwarts, ignoring the whispers from the students and the nervous motions of the short first years around her. Her only thoughts were, _Why didn't they do this over the summer so I could avoid the embarrassing moment_. And she was mildly embarrassed at the fact that she was the oldest and tallest person waiting in line to wear a creepy looking hat.

She was painfully reminded of her old school back in Carolina, Four Trees School for Gifted Children. Of course, no one outside the walls really knew just how gifted the students were. And they didn't do a sorting with a hat. They sorted by a strength test. They put the potions people together, the transfiguration people together, and so on. She herself was a Charms student, with a flair for potions. She was in the Charms wing, with one roommate, Lisa. There was no sorting, no public display, and no fricking singing hat.

"Davis, Christopher," the old man with the funny looking bifocals called. All eyes were glued on her as she walked up to the stool and looked down. She leaned forward to the man and quietly asked, "Can I just stand, please, because I don't think I'll be able to get back up if I sit on that stool."

A few students must have heard her, because the front six rows laughed. The man nodded, and placed the hat on her head while she was standing. She listened to the hat as it thought.

"Arrogant and intelligent. Twisted and conniving, aren't you. And there are secrets, yes, many secrets you hide deep in your head, my dear. But brave, so brave. Slytherin would be a good place for you."

She didn't realize she had spoken aloud until it was too late. "I rarely get along with my own kind," she stated simply.

"Yes, that's all here too. You don't belong here," the hat told her, and she laughed. Of course she didn't belong there; she didn't want to be there. She wanted to be home.

"I guess I will stick you in GRYFFINDOR," the hat shouted the last word, and she was as surprised as the old man was as he took the hat off of her head.

The table to the left clapped and cheered, so she assumed that that was the Gryffindor's slice of the hall and joined them. She got a few pats on the back and a few handshakes. She really didn't pay attention as she sat down next to a few of the older guys.

"Aren't you a little old to be sorted?" one of them asked. She studied him for a moment. He had carrot orange hair and a pock-marked face. The latter was a tragedy due to the fact that if he hadn't picked at his zits, he wouldn't be a terrible looking boy.

"Aren't you a little too smart to state obvious questions?" she asked. Food appeared on the plates, and juice in the cups. She sipped at hers, but didn't eat. Chris had a feeling that she was going to be sick later that night, and didn't want to vomit more than necessary.

The people surrounding her laughed a bit at her comeback, but it died quickly with a sour glare from the pock-marked boy. Then he smiled at her and offered his hand over the table.

"I'm Weasley, Roy Weasley. And you are…"

"Again with the obvious questions. Chris Davis," she answered, taking his clammy hand briefly. Definitely a boy conversing with a pretty girl.

"Welcome to the house, Chris," Roy said, toasting her with a glass

"Thanks, Weasley," was all she said before her attention fell on the teacher's table at the front of the hall. The headmaster, Dippet, she recalled, had introduced the teachers. One of them was Dumbledore, and she wasn't sure which. She was betting the Charms or the Transfiguration teacher was Tom's favorite she wanted to check in on. Tomorrow, though, not tonight. Tonight she would suffer quietly through what she was sure was going to happen to Pierce.

She felt eyes drift over to her every so often, but after the sorting thing, she had melted into the crowd. Just the way she liked it. They ate, Dippet gave some sort of inane speech she really didn't hear, and they were told to go to bed. She glanced at her watch, it was barely ten. That wasn't going to happen.

Up in the dorms, she pulled her trunks out of her pocket and waved a wand at them to cast the growing spell. Chris checked inside to make sure her clothes grew as well. She didn't want a repeat of her junior year at FTS. She had to wear the same clothes for a week before she figured out what she had done wrong and could fix it.

Around the same time, the rest of the girls she would share the dorm with came in, chattering along like little birds. When they saw her, they kind of just stared, and then one of them whispered something and the other two started to giggle again. Chris didn't care; she didn't need to be friends with her roommates.

Deciding that maybe going to bed now could be a good idea, she slipped her shoes off and yanked back the covers. She didn't undress; she simply collapsed on top of the bed and pulled the curtains around her. The girls continued to speak in hushed tones, as if she couldn't hear their whispered questions about her and how rude she was not even to try to talk to them. As she drifted into sleep, the girl's started to quiet down, and go to bed themselves. She was fully asleep by the time the lights went out.

She got two hours sleep before the pain came and she made a break for the bathroom, hoping she could hold back long enough to get to a toilet.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for all your support, from all reviewers.

Chapter Seven

Charleston, West Virginia

Greg winced as he watched them slam the hot poker into the scaly side of the large gold dragon. The sound of pain it made scratched his ear drums and he wished that he never had gotten tangled up in this mess.

"How ya doin, Gregory?" shouted the man as he pulled the weapon from the creature's hide.

"Shitty," Greg answered, running a hand through his hair.

"And Chrissy? Did you tell her what her old man wanted?" the man asked.

"She's off to the school now, and she hasn't found it yet," Greg confided.

The man frowned and reached for another, much more painful looking weapon to use next. "She better hurry; I really don't want to kill Pierce," he said, but his sadistic grin said otherwise.

"I'll make a note of that to tell her, thanks," Greg said, his stomach churning as the man turned the instrument on. Without another word, Greg left the room, refusing to hear the dragon scream again.

The office was significantly quieter. Greg remembered walking through them as a young boy. Then, the building had been the head of magical affairs. Now, it was his boss's headquarters. Alvin Davis was in charge now, running the magical- and to an extent, the muggle- world in the way he saw fit. Fear and conformity being the primary tools.

"Greg, come in," Alvin said as Greg pushed open the door.

"Sir, I'm back from England," Greg said, keeping his head down as he addressed his senior.

"Obviously. Do you have the book?" Alvin asked.

"No sir, she says she can't find it."

One thing about Alvin's temper, you could always tell when he was angry because the temperature in the room always dropped below freezing.

"She can't find it?" he asked, sounding mildly interested.

"No, sir, she can't."

"Has it occurred to you that she's lying?"

"Yes, sir, but she seems pretty sincere. She requests a few more weeks-"

"Weeks? She's asking for weeks?"

Not really, Greg thought, but too late now. "Yessir."

"I needed that book yesterday. If she doesn't give it to me in a fortnight, Pierce is going to die. No more time allotted, Greg. My patience is up. Is that understood?"

Greg nodded, and turned to leave. He felt a spell hit his back, and keeled over from the instant pain in his chest. It burned, and he ripped the buttons there trying to see what it was. A small dagger was slowly being etched into his skin.

"A reminder, Greg, that's all," Alvin commented lightly. "You may leave now."

Greg wasted no time scrambling out of the older man's office. He didn't see the old man's smirk or hear the chuckle at his fear.

*

Chris put her hand to the wall to hold herself up while the other clutched her waist where she had a stitch. It was still very early, barely five-thirty. After the first episode of emptying her stomach into the toilet, she knew she wouldn't get much sleep and when the sickness subsided, she changed her clothes and went for a run. She hated everything about the activity, but found that it drowned out the urge to heave and quieted the sounds of Pierce's pain scorching through her brain. It finally let up around five and that was when her steps started to fade.

Panting heavily, she leaned against the wall and tilted her head back. She didn't hear the young man walk up beside her.

"You're up early," Roy Weasley said, making her jerk out of her meditation.

"Didn't get to sleep," she admitted, putting a hand to her forehead.

"That's not good," he said with a small frown. "But I guess that's normal when transferring schools, especially trans-continental."

"Sure," she said platonically, not disagreeing or arguing.

"You'll like Hogwarts, it's a good place," he assured her.

"Strangely, I don't think it'll measure up to FTS," she confided.

"FTS?"

"My old school, Four Trees School."

"Interesting name," he chuckled.

"Better than Hogwarts, I think."

Roy shrugged. "You got me there. What was your school like?"

"Much like a Norm school, I guess. We start in Kindergarten, with the basics, and go elementary, middle, and high school. Norm classes in the mornings, magic in the evenings. Only the high schoolers ever really stay on campus, so it's less crowded."

"Sounds nice. Why'd you leave?"

She smiled.

"I set the principal's desk on fire."

"At a magic school I'd figure that wouldn't be too bad."

"With him sitting at it and telling me that I needed to control my temper?"

Roy seemed to be surprised as he said, "Oh."

Chris laughed. "Yeah. Was packing my bags the next day, out of the country in two."

"Well, I hope you can stand it here for at least one year."

"I'll find something to make it worthwhile."

"Hmm, I'll see you at breakfast, then?"

"All right."

Roy walked away from the sweaty teen girl, and Chris watched him leave. Unbidden, thoughts of Tom popped into her head. She actually missed him. The boy was a nice fuck, she had to admit that.

*

Tom stood at the counter and looked out the window of the shop at the dismally rainy afternoon. Chris's memory seemed to haunt him. He was dying to know how she was doing, and if she was screwing anyone else at the damned school. Just the thought of another man touching her made his blood boil.

At that moment, the man from the train station walked in the door. Tom's fist clenched on his wand.

"Can I help you, sir?" he asked.

"Cut the shit, you know who I am," the man growled. "I need you to talk to Chrissy."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because she's going to be in a world of pain if you don't. Her boss needs something from her and if she doesn't hand it over, well, she'll know."

"What does he need?"

"It doesn't concern you."

"Chris's business is my business."

The man sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Listen, I'm just trying to help her, as much as she wouldn't believe that. Would you please tell her? And if you are certain you want to know what's going on, you'll have to ask her."

Tom nodded. "Fine. Now get out."

The conversation was short and awkward, and the man sat there for a few seconds for heading back out into the down pour.

Tom watched him, wondering what in the world the asshole was talking about.


End file.
